


Life's Song is Not a Ballad

by Amber_Angel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, I'm also writing this instead of sleeping, I'm making this up as I go along, M/M, No major character death I swear, Slow Burn, We get enough of that in the show, i'm going to shut up now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Angel/pseuds/Amber_Angel
Summary: Dean Winchester is bisexual, and literally everyone knows it. What happens when a case forces him to confront this fact? Will he finally realize his feelings for Castiel? Do I really need to answer that last question?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm apologizing right now for how bad this may or may not be. It's an idea that's been nagging at me for a while now, so I hope I did it justice. Anyway, enjoy.

Dean Winchester is bisexual. No one knew, of course (or so he thought). As Sam liked to put it, Dean was so far in the closet that he'd found Narnia, and it would take him quite some time to get back again. 

Mary had noticed it right away; how could she not? No straight man looked at another dude the way Dean looked at Castiel. Straight men didn't give each other lingering touches that spoke such volumes of their affection. And they definitely didn't ignore a woman when she practically threw herself at them, as Dean was currently doing at the bar. Conclusion: her eldest son was not (entirely) straight. The sexuality of her youngest was still in question. (Cue confused moose sounds in the background). 

Dean had successfully deterred the lady, and was heading back to their booth, laden with four beers. Once they were distributed, he slid into the booth next to Cas and turned his attention to the map that Sam had spread out on the table.

“So, here's what we know,” Sam said. “In the past week, five people have been murdered by their significant other. No one knows why, but every murder has had a witness. Neighbors swear that the couples were the only ones to enter the house, and in one case, the widow across the street saw this woman’s partner leave, covered in blood.” 

Mary shuddered and took a sip of her beer. Castiel frowned, and Dean sighed unhappily. 

“Oh, and get this,” Sam continued, and Dean almost -almost- smirked at the familiar phrase. “The police say that they found the latest perpetrator, a Mr. Andrew Conley at a nightclub, flirting with one of the waitresses.”

“So?” Dean asked, confused.

“Mr. Conley was married… to the victim, Gary Hoss.”

“What, so the dude killed his husband and then just suddenly decided to go for the ladies? That doesn't make any sense, Sammy.” 

“Did I ever say that it did? Of course, he could have been bisexual, but it still doesn't make much sense that his first stop after murdering his husband would be a nightclub.”

“He could just be an idiot,” Dean suggested, ignoring Sam's glare. 

“His IQ was 140, Dean,” Sam retorted, finishing off his beer. 

“Well, I think we should head back to the motel and sleep on it,” Mary said. “It might make more sense in the morning, when the alcohol is out of our systems. I saw how much you drank, Dean. I'm surprised that you're still conscious,” she teased. 

Dean protested, but Sam and Cas agreed with Mary, so they left, Sam taking to wheel to drive back to their current motel. Honestly, Dean just thought that Cas was relieved to be leaving the crowded, loud atmosphere at the bar. The ex-angel still wasn't very comfortable with social situations, and although Dean tried to convince him that one cure for social anxiety was total immersion, Cas disagreed, and so tried his best to avoid crowded places. 

They had booked two rooms, and Sam and Mary were bunking together for the night, so they said their goodnights at the car and parted ways. Cas barely made it to the room before collapsing on the couch, the combination of alcohol and social interaction taking their toll on his energy. Dean chuckled at him and headed to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. When he came back out, Cas was already asleep, although at least he had moved to his bed. His face was planted into the pillow, mouth open slightly as he snored, occasionally letting out soft, little snuffling noises that Dean found adorable. 

Internally laughing, the hunter drew the covers up over Castiel and retreated to his own bed. He had just gotten comfortable when he heard Castiel shifting, looking over just in time to see the ex-angel fall off the edge of the bed. There was a startled grunt, and then Castiel straightened up, a blush spreading across his face as Dean’s laughter increased in volume. 

“Dude, how did you even get to the edge that fast?” Dean managed to ask, in between chuckles. 

“I… move around a lot in my sleep,” Castiel said defensively, getting back into the bed and wrapping the covers around himself. “It was never a problem until I became human.”

Dean's laughter subsided and he relaxed again, watching as Castiel laid back down, this time facing away from the hunter. In almost no time at all, he heard snoring, and knew that Cas was asleep. He rolled his eyes and decided to follow suit.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean yawned, leaning back in the driver's seat of his Baby, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee that Sam handed him. 

“So, what do you think we're dealing with here?” Dean asked, taking a swig of coffee. “Demon, shapeshifter, mass insanity?” 

“Shapeshifter sounds plausible,” Mary mused, frowning. “Doesn't explain the weird behavior, though.”

“Also doesn't explain how they have all the killers in custody,” Sam added.

“Demon, then,” Dean said.

“Not necessarily. We need to get to one of the vic’s houses, check for sulfur,” Mary said, finishing off her coffee. 

“Good point. You and Sam go poke around at the crime scene, Cas and I can go check out the nightclub where they picked up Conley, see if we can find anything interesting,” Dean said, shifting the Impala into drive. “I'll drop you guys off.”

 

*********************************

 

The officer on site was currently on his phone, chewing out the poor sap on the other end. As Mary and Sam approached, they could hear his side of the conversation.

“Damn it, Jerry, I don't care /how/ he got out, just get him back! The Sheriff is riding my ass about this case, and if he finds out that the perp busted out… this could cost both of us our jobs! Shit- I gotta go, there are feds here. Just get your lazy ass moving, Jerry.”

“Problem?” Sam asked, trying his hardest to mask his sarcasm. 

“No, nope, no problem at all,” the cop stammered. 

“Buddy, you should never try theater,” Sam said. “What happened?”

The cop sighed and took his hat off, looking embarrassed. 

“It's Andrew Conley. He escaped, not half an hour ago. Fought his way past five guards and ran off. All officers were unharmed.”

“How did he managed to get past five armed policemen?” Mary asked.

“They weren't armed,” the cop admitted sheepishly. 

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes. “What's your name?”

“Poll, ma’am. Winston Poll.” 

“Mr. Poll, would you please just show us the crime scene?”

“Oh, yes, of course, ma’am.”

Poll lead them up to the master bedroom, grimacing as he pulled the door open and ushered them inside. It was gruesome. Blood spilled from the stained mattress to pool on the carpet, and there was even splotches on the wall. What really made the two hunter gag; however, was the appendages that had been placed on the nightstand. Fingers had been placed on the severed bone, like they were still connected to a hand, groping the air. Ten toes were scattered on the nightstand, some with missing nails. And laying on the pillow…

“Oh, Chuck, is that a tongue?” Sam blanched, mouth twisting in distaste. “Were the other murders like this?”

“Not exactly,” Poll said, “so far, none of the vics have been missing any of their- ugh, any of their body parts.” 

“What about intestines?” Mary asked, relatively unfazed. “Has the coroner's report come back yet?”

“Yep, we got it a few days ago, and thankfully, all the guy's insides were intact,” Poll replied. “What kind of wackos do you two deal with regularly?”

Mary’s only reply was a tense smile as they turned to go. As soon as they were out of earshot of Poll, she sighed and turned to Sam.

“I didn't pick up any sulfur. Do you think it could have been a ghost?”

“Ghost doesn't explain the weird behavior of the spouses,” Sam replied. 

“Good point.” Mary groaned frustratedly. “I hope Dean and Cas have more luck.”

 

********************

Dean and Cas did not. All the patrons of the club were either too drunk to have a coherent conversation, or hadn't been there the night that Andrew Conley was. Eventually, they settled down at the bar, Dean sighing in frustration. 

“I really hate dealing with drunk people,” he complained, signalling the bartender to bring him a beer. 

“To be honest, Dean, I don't know what you were hoping to find here,” Cas replied.

“I dunno man, maybe the Conley dude said something to someone that could give us a clue on exactly why he decided to up and murder his husband. I'm just tired of grasping at straws. We need to have an idea of what caused this before someone else is killed.”

Castiel just nodded his understanding and wrapped his arms around himself, looking lost in the bright lights of the club. 

“I'm going to head to the bathroom real quick,” Dean said, starting to get up before thinking to ask, “Will you be okay here on your own?”

“Yes, Dean, I'll be alright,” Cas assured him, although he wasn't too sure himself.

Dean nodded and headed to the bathroom, leaving Castiel at the bar. The ex-angel sat stiffly on his barstool, trying to ignore the loud music coming from the overhead speakers, and the loud voices from the crowd of people just behind him. He had consulted the Internet about the problem that he seemed to have. The answer that he received was that he had social anxiety, which sounded true enough. He had problems with big crowds, loudness, and really just people in general. Dean described it as “awkwardness.” 

The thought of the hunter jerked Castiel back out of his head, and he looked around himself, wondering if Dean should have been back by now. Time always seemed to pass so slowly when he was alone. If he went to check on Dean and the hunter was fine, he'd probably get a lecture about how Dean could handle himself. But if Dean was in danger… 

Cas decided to go check. He sighed as he saw the signs for the bathroom at the back of the club, through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. He cut through the crowd, doing his best to touch the least amount of bodies possible. Eventually, he reached the bathrooms, and he smiled, relieved. Upon entering, however, he didn't see Dean, and there was no one in the stalls. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, going back out into the club. Instantly, the music assaulted his ears, and as he scanned the crowd for Dean, he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. 

Then he saw him. 

“Dean,” he called, starting to make his way over, pushing past people in his haste to get through before he lost sight of the hunter. 

Dean didn't hear him, and Cas stopped in his tracks when he saw Dean lean forward to kiss a fairly attractive woman, swaying slightly in the flow of the crowd. 

“Dean!” he called again, a hint of anger in his voice. This time, Dean heard him, and broke away from the lady with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Cas, hey! Sorry, buddy, I got a little distracted.”

Cas rolled his eyes. 

“Dean, I'm leaving. When you finish with your-,” he eyed the woman distrustfully, “-business, I'll be in the car.” 

He left, now shoving people aside as the need to get out grew. It was freedom to take a breath of fresh air on the outside, and he got into the Impala to wait for Dean, fuming silently, although he wasn't entirely sure why he was so upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it so far!


	3. Chapter 3

It took ten minutes for Dean to leave the club, and Cas didn't understand why that made him so angry. He supposed a part of him had wanted the hunter to chase after him when he left, but rationally he knew that it was stupid to expect Dean to do anything but take his time with his “lady friend.” Still, when Dean slipped into the driver's seat, he pretended to be extremely interested in a loose thread on his trenchcoat. 

“Sorry to leave you back there, man,” Dean apologized lightheartedly as he started the car, still smiling, eyes slightly glazed. 

“No, it's fine.” Cas shrugged and buckled up, still avoiding Dean's gaze, even though the hunter didn't seem to notice. “So who was that woman?” He hated himself for the note of jealousy in his voice.

Dean didn't seem to notice, grin widening as he pulled onto the road.

“Oh, her name was Lucy. She said that she knew something about Conley, but then, well, we got a little distracted.”

“So you didn't get any information.”

“No, but I got her phone number.”

“Great.” Cas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, turning to glare moodily out the window at the passing scenery. 

“Yeah, she was,” Dean said dreamily. “I mean, dude, did you see her?”

“No,” Castiel answered curtly.

“She had really soft hair, like fluffy baby bunny soft. And her eyes…”

“Oh no, please, go on,” Cas said sarcastically.

“Looking at her eyes was like looking straight into heaven,” Dean finished, and Castiel groaned. 

“Dean, please stop talking.”

“Fine.”

They were silent the rest of the drive, and when the car stopped outside of the victim's house, Castiel got out and ushered Sam in the direction of the passenger side as he slid into the back. Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly but didn't comment as he climbed into the car.

“We didn't find any traces of sulfur at the scene,” Mary said as she sat down next to Cas. “Please tell me that you had more luck?”

“No, we didn't find any information regarding the case,” Castiel answered quickly, before Dean had a chance.

“I did find someone who might be a lead,” Dean added, grinning. “And I got her phone number.”

“That's great.” Mary smiled. “What information did you get out of her?”

“I didn't actually get any info from her yet, but she knows something,” Dean answered, shrugging. “I'm going to meet up with her again later tonight.”

“Wait, you're taking her on a date?” Sam looked shocked, glancing back at Cas with a worried expression, the face of man who knows that his ship is in danger. 

“Yep.” Dean smiled, his rare, genuine smile that lit up his beautiful green eyes and spoke volumes of his joy without saying a word. It made Castiel's stomach clench, to know that the cause of that joy wasn't him, Sam or Mary. It was an unknown bar floozy. A one-night stand at best. Someone who shouldn't have the power to make his hunter so happy, but somehow, she did. She did, and he started to wonder if something was wrong. 

He wasn't jealous, not at all, nope, no way. But that smile was something special. Anyone who knew Dean well knew that that particular smile was in high demand, but extremely low supply. The only person proven to always coax that smile out was Sam. Occasionally it made itself known to Cas and Mary. Some random girl that Dean had known for all of maybe twenty minutes should not be able to provoke that kind of reaction. 

“Dean, maybe one of us should go with you,” Cas suggested. “It doesn't take much for you to get distracted when it comes to women, and we need this information.” 

The smile faded. Dean scowled. 

“What, you don't trust me, Cas?” Dean scoffed, hands tightening on the wheel. “I'm a big boy. I can handle it.”

Cas nodded and turned his head back to the window, feeling chastised. No one else spoke until they pulled up to the motel. 

Sam and Mary retreated back to their own room to do some more research, while Dean huffed and stalked away to the room he shared with Castiel, leaving the ex-angel where he was still sitting in the car. 

How Cas missed his wings, especially in this moment. When he was an angel, there was almost no limit to his power. If he had wished to accompany Dean on his “date” unseen, he could have. That power was part of why social situations were such a threat. While with his wings he could have fled in a second, without them he had no easy out, no escape. If he was stuck in an uncomfortable situation, he couldn't just disappear with a rustle of feathers and a swoosh of his beloved trenchcoat. Human beings were daunting. He had observed them for years, but there was quite a difference between observation and immersion. 

He didn't want Dean to have any more contact with that girl. He knew he was being slightly irrational, paranoid even, but he didn't care. There was something off about the way Dean spoke of her. Reverently, as though she could be his world. 

When Dean came back out an hour later, he seemed surprised and worried to see Cas still sitting in the backseat of the Impala, head resting on the seat in front of him. The hunter sighed and slid in next to Cas. 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, gently grasping Castiel's shoulder.

“No.” Cas's answer was short and tense. His muscles relaxed at Dean's touch, and he subconsciously leaned towards the hunter. 

“What's wrong?” Dean prompted, guiding Cas's shoulders to turn and face him. The ex-angel closed his eyes and turned his face away.

“I don't want you to go alone tonight. Please, Dean.”

Dean's face hardened. His eyes turned cold and his hand dropped from Castiel's shoulder, leaving the ex-angel to open his eyes, surprised.

“I'm going to be fine. I don't see why you don't trust me.”

“Dean, it's not that I don't trust you-”

“Really? Because that's what it sure sounds like, Castiel!” Both men flinched at the sound of Cas's full name, one more so than the other. When he spoke again, Dean's voice was soft but icy. 

“Get out of my car.” 

Cas didn't dare argue. 

As he watched Dean drive away, his worry grew, gnawing at his stomach. 

********

The girl across from him smiled, and Dean could practically feel his heart leap. Her eyes were a deep, beautiful blue, and every time he looked into them, he fell into her spell. 

“Ah- so, you said you had information on Andrew Conley?” It was so hard to focus on the case, especially when she reached across the table to lay her hand on his. 

“Yes. I know who he was waiting for at that club.”

“He was waiting for someone?” She smiled, lips full and soft, and he almost sighed.

“He was waiting for me.” 

“Why?” Great. Now he was reduced to monosyllables. 

“Because I told him to.”

Dean frowned.

“You enjoy being cryptic, don't you?” 

She laughed, her hand tightening on his, pulling him closer over the table, just enough for him to notice, but not mind. 

“In my line of work, I have to be secretive.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, smirking. “What do you say we skip dinner and head right into the fun part of this date?”

“Well, I-” Dean hesitated, warring internally. He wanted to go with her. He wanted what was coming next to happen. But he also didn't. It was just one tiny, distant voice crammed in the back of his mind, but it screamed to be heard, and its warning voice sounded vaguely like Castiel. It almost won, too. But the girl-when had she gotten so close?-closed the distance between them and kissed him. His mind went blank, and he didn't even know what happened next. Only that he ended up driving back to the motel with a mind not his own.

 

******* 

It was several hours later when the motel room door opened and Cas glanced up to see Dean standing in the doorway. The date had gone well, as apparent from the marks on Dean's neck and what little he could see of his chest. The sight pained him and Castiel looked away quickly. 

He didn't even hear Dean moving closer, didn't even notice it until a hand grasped his shoulder. But it was the wrong shoulder, the wrong grip, and when Cas looked at Dean, the hunter's face was cold and wrong. That was all he had time to register before he was flung from his perch on the edge of his bed, sent sprawling to the floor. 

“Dean! What are you doing?!” Castiel cried, backing away as best he could, gasping when Dean seized his ankle, halting his progress. A strong hand fastened itself to his collar and yanked him upwards, where the other collided with his jaw, once, twice, three times, hard enough to send stars spiralling in front of his eyes. 

He fell limp in Dean's grasp, head swimming. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He had been trained to fight under attack, but this wasn't a monster, this was Dean, and nothing would make him hurt this man. 

Another punch connected with his cheek, his eye and he screamed, knowing that it would draw attention, hopefully bringing Sam and Mary. 

When the door flew open minutes later, he almost sobbed in relief, his jaw beyond broken and his right eye black, cheek bloody. Dean released him and he collapsed to the ground. There was the distant sound of shuffling, snarling, and finally a grunt and a thud. Then gentle, worried hand were on him, and he let himself sink into blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, have a nice day!


	4. Chapter 4

“It's a siren. It has to be,” Sam declared, scowling as he looked back over the case information, recognizing the signs, too late. “Damn it! Mom, how's Cas?”

“He'll be alright,” Mary assured him, glancing at Castiel's inert form. “There was a lot of blood, but his injuries aren't that severe. His jaw is broken, and he has a black eye and a few cuts on his cheek from where Dean punched him-he was wearing a ring-but those will heal.”

“Well, we need to find that siren and kill it. The only thing is-”

“The only thing is that we don't know where it is or what it looks like,” Mary finished for him, sinking into a chair with a sigh. “We're going to have to let Dean lead us to it.”

“Right. I have the bronze dagger, and I smeared some of Dean's blood on it.” Sam grimaced. “He's still unconscious.”

“Good, that's good. We should move him to the Impala. When he wakes up he'll probably head to the siren,” Mary reasoned, standing with a sigh. Sam rose with her. 

******

“I'm so glad I installed GPS on his phone,” Sam muttered, glancing at his phone screen for a moment as he worked the wheel of a stolen car. “He can drive fast, and he'll get suspicious if we tail him.”

*******

Dean's trail led them back to the nightclub where he had first met the siren. Inside it was less packed than when Dean and Castiel had first visited, but they still couldn't spot Dean through the crowd. 

“We need to split up,” Sam murmured, fingering the blade hidden in his jacket. “We'll cover more ground that way. Just throw your hand up when you find him, or text me, or something.”

Mary looked doubtful, but she nodded and took a left into the crowd, leaving Sam to take the right. 

It only took him fifteen minutes. Impressive considering that he had to push his way past couples grinding and single men and women pushing themselves against him and even one drunken girl who tried to kiss him. 

He didn't even hesitate. He saw Dean, and saw a black-haired girl who must have been the siren. The girl was pressed up against him, whispering something in his ear, and as Dean's face fell, Sam knew he had to act fast. He lunged forward, exposing the dagger and burying it into her back in one swift move. It let out a choked little gagging noise and fell to the floor. Dean didn't even flinch, his face dark and horrified. Slowly, he turned to his brother.

“Cas?”

Sam never wanted to hear that tone in his brother's voice again. Ever. Ever. He sounded lost and stricken, like his world was collapsing and all he could do was stand and watch. 

“Dean, calm down. Cas is fine. He's fine. He's back at the motel, but you have to calm down, okay?” Sam said reassuringly, leading his brother away from the crowd, sending off a text to Mary as he did so. She would take the stolen car back while Sam drove Dean in the Impala. In his current state of mind, there was no way Sam would let his brother behind the wheel.

*****

Ten minutes later Sam was jogging to keep up as Dean sprinted across the parking lot to his motel room. He unlocked the door and threw it open, freezing when he saw Cas sitting on the edge of his bed. Dean took a step towards him, and the ex-angel flinched. 

“Cas…” Dean sounded like he was pleading. “I'm sorry.”

Cas rose off of the bed and walked towards them, his face controlled and expressionless. When he stopped, he was standing so close to Dean that they were only separated by a mere breath. The hunter gently traced the cuts on Castiel's cheek, his hands trembling slightly. 

“I'm so sorry,” he repeated. “Cas… that siren wanted me to kill you.”

Castiel just nodded.

“I-I'm glad I didn't. I don't know what I would do without you,” Dean admitted, turning away as he blushed despite himself. Soft fingers took hold of his chin and guided his gaze back to Cas, who was smiling gently as he slowly closed the distance between them, giving Dean time to back out. 

He didn't. Their lips met, and all Dean could think about was how soft Cas's lips were, and how good they felt against his own. He knew that Castiel's jaw was broken, so he kept the kiss simple, and when they broke apart, he couldn't help but smile like a fool. 

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update regularly, but everyone who read my last fic can tell you that that's a distant dream, so I apologize now for delays.


End file.
